


Just Business

by writingramblr



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, I'm Going to Hell, Light BDSM, Light Masochism, M/M, Multi, Oedipal Issues, Post-Movie(s), Roleplay, Romance, Shameless Smut, Spies & Secret Agents, Threesome - F/M/M, Work Liaisons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4819955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby doesn't usually make a habit of falling for co-workers twice, but she's already too far gone with the Russian, what does it matter when she decides she wants the American too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exchange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [can_i_poke_it_with_a_stick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/can_i_poke_it_with_a_stick/gifts).



> this is simply me wanting to write something for the pictures in the credits.  
> who's to say the girl in the photo with napoleon *isn't* gaby? we can't see her face! i like the idea of beachy shenanigans with the ot3.
> 
> and hugh grant is a silver fox don't tell me you didn't think about this possibility.

“You know you really should be careful if you plan on getting involved with your partners. Solo is a serial womanizer after all, as for Kuryakin, well, he could break you in half, by accident or not.”

Waverly looked over the edge of his wire rimmed glasses at Gaby, his own pride and joy in the spy squad code named UNCLE.

As usual she rolled her eyes and proceeded to ignore him.

But her hand never left his arm, and she danced around him, narrowly avoiding a stack of files lingering too close to the edge of his desk.

“I promise I can look after myself. You’ll always be my first and only love, Alex.”

Waverly lifted his hand and shook his pointer finger at her,

“Now you must’nt do that. No teasing. I know you have feelings for the Russian. Don’t bother denying it. Your lively romp that night did not go unnoticed.”

Gaby’s peal of laughter always made him think of the sort of wind chimes over looking an old lady’s garden, populated by lilies and hummingbirds.

“It was not a ‘romp’ as you call it, I was merely beating his ass.”

“Sure. I trust it ended with you gaining the upper hand?”

Gaby smirked,

“But of course.”

She leaned to press a dry kiss to his cheek and then was gone before the warmth could settle too deeply in his skin.

God how he needed a smoke.

Not just a cigarette or a cigar, but a nice stout hookah.

“I think you need a vacation.”

He finally said.

Gaby pouted,

“But we’ve just gotten started. Istanbul was nothing.”

“Yes and Solo’s shoulder will recover magically as fast as Kuryakin’s left ankle. Honestly Gaby, do you want to kill them? Do it while they sleep. It would be kinder.”

Another eye roll.

So yes.

He was jealous.

He couldn’t help it.

Two young and handsome, not to mention very fit, men were preparing to steal away Gaby’s attention and maybe if she was lucky, her heart.

She’d had her fun with him, and he’d never look at Germany the same, it was true, but he had to be the more mature one.

Even if she liked to pretend she was.

“As long as it’s sunny and warm and there’s water, I’ll agree.”

Waverly smiled tightly,

“I’m certain Solo would just love that.”

Gaby nodded thoughtfully,

“I doubt Illya’s ever been to a beach. It’s perfect. How does Monaco sound?”

He cocked an eyebrow,

“Have you been keeping secrets? Have you got a gambling problem my dear?”

Gaby shook her head,

“Not at all. But if you think Napoleon doesn’t, you’d be mistaken.”

Waverly was surprised, not an easy feat.

“That wasn’t in his file.”

Gaby shrugged,

“There’s plenty lacking from both their files. But I’m rather good at finding out what I need to know.”

Waverly sighed,

“Tell me about it. No, don’t. I don’t want to know if it doesn’t jeopardize any future missions.”

Gaby began to walk away and something caught in his throat.

Words that were foolish.

“Take care of yourself Agent.”

Gaby looked back with a sly smile,

“Forgot my name already boss?”

Waverly shook his head,

“Never. But sometimes when one cuts ties it’s easier to pretend it never happened.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure you won’t be alone for long.”

*

Napoleon did indeed love the beach.

Illya even managed to smile after the first day, and when Gaby splashed him, his hands didn’t start to shake. He simply picked her up round her waist and walked into the waves with her in his arms.

Her shrieking made Napoleon deaf for a few hours.

The camera that was still in Illya’s luggage might have been useless now, but Napoleon insisted on having his photo taken at least once.

Gaby refused.

The compromise was to take it at dusk, and Gaby turned away, hugging Napoleon’s shoulder, the uninjured one, and she saw his bright smile before the flash illuminated it.

He was very pretty.

Waverly had been right.

Falling for him and Illya wouldn’t be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Saying goodbye to Waverly had been that.

Not just a parting of boss and spy, but a farewell of lovers.

Now he was off somewhere, smoking like a chimney no doubt, pipe in hand, sunset behind him, as she enjoyed her brief vacation with her two teammates.

It was fitting.

One thing ended and another began.

Well, two others.

When Napoleon didn’t let her out of his arms, and looked on the verge of kissing her, she let him.

Illya stood by, fuming silently, and she let him.

That night when they had drunk and danced, (Illya not so much) Gaby left to her room, alone.

She didn’t expect to find six feet of muscled blond in the corner of her bedroom, but she didn’t kick him out either.

“Are you lost?”

She asked glibly, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding as if it planned to leave her chest.

“No. I want to know why you kissed the cowboy, and yet you do not want me.”

Gaby sighed,

“You boys and your territory. That was all just a show Illya. I almost kissed you twice, three times, in Rome lest you forget.”

He was now looming over her, and she wasn’t sure when he’d gotten so close, but she didn’t feel afraid, despite the whisper of Waverly’s warning in the back of her mind.

“I remember perfectly.”

“So? What are you going to do about it?”

Gaby stared up at him, arms crossed defiantly, and she wasn’t holding her breath as she waited for him to react, not at all.

He swooped in and lifted her off her feet, while pulling her into his arms, and his lips on hers at once ruled any doubts out.

The Russian could kiss well.

Perhaps not as smooth or with as much technique as the American, but she got the sense he didn’t have as nearly as many notches on his bedpost.

Speaking of which, he’d already walked her over to her bed, and there was no sign he was about to stop.

She tapped his shoulder gently and the kiss broke, allowing her to breathe at last.

“How was that?”

He asked.

Gaby smiled dreamily,

“I think you know.”

Illya’s grin was practically as confident as one of Napoleon’s.

“That was more than worth the wait.”

Gaby nodded,

“I think so yes.”

“And to think, I was feeling left out.”

The smooth lilting voice of the American in question filled Gaby’s ears, and she bit back a groan of frustration.

Had they both seriously been camped out in her room?

How had they managed it so quickly after saying goodnight downstairs?

“What the hell?”

She frowned at Napoleon, who stepped out of the shadows with his hands raised in surrender, as Illya growled low in his throat,

“Cowboy I think you missed the invitation, that is, you were not invited period.”

Napoleon clicked his tongue and moved to stand closer, probably not his smartest move,

“I seem to recall you telling me you could illicit more of a reaction when you kissed a woman, and I accepted that challenge. I was just checking to see how well you fared.”

Gaby’s jaw dropped.

“This whole thing was a bet?”

Illya spluttered over his response, and Napoleon filled in for him, smooth as silk, as usual,

“Not exactly. The beach kiss was mostly spontaneous. But I can never resist a beautiful woman in my arms, partner or not.”

“What if your woman partner decides to beat your ass? I’ve already done Illya, so naturally that means it’s your turn?”

The delicate furrow of Napoleon’s brow was infuriatingly handsome, and when he turned to Illya for confirmation, that was when Gaby leapt out of the Russian’s arms.

She aimed carefully for the American’s stomach, and she knew the momentum would lead him to fall on his uninjured shoulder.

It drove the wind from him, but left him otherwise unharmed.

“Now do you believe me?”

She towered over him where he lay sprawled on the floor, and she allowed herself to feel a bit smug, until she focused on his expression.

Wide eyed wonder.

He wasn’t concerned she’d hit him, if she had to guess, he was _aroused_ that she’d done it at all.

That was very interesting.

“You have no idea what she is capable of Cowboy.”

Illya commented, still lounging on her bed.

Gaby watched Napoleon carefully, and he seemed to have no protests.

“I look forward to seeing exactly that Peril. If the lady will indulge us.”

Gaby frowned,

“’ _Us_?’ what is this you speak of?”

Illya was looking rather embarrassed, pink around his ears and even his cheeks.

“We’ve spoken it over…”

Napoleon beamed,

“We actually agreed on something. Whomever you prefer, the other will step aside. However, if you would be willing to take us both…”

Gaby swallowed carefully and took a step back from the bed, where Illya was watching her with wide eyes, and where Napoleon was starting to look a bit too comfortable on the floor, looking poised to leap into action at any moment.

“You’ve discussed who will have me?”

She doesn’t care about that, her blood sings at the fact that they’ve even considered it and the fact they are both in her room, clearly at her mercy makes it even better.

They are quick to correct her purposeful misstep,

“Oh no, it’s who _you_ will have.”

“Completely up to you.”

Gaby cocked a brow at them,

“And if I say no to either? Perhaps I already have a lover.”

The disappointment that flickers over both of their faces is immediate, but hidden quicker on Illya.

“That’s perfectly understandable.”

“I am not surprised in the least.”

Gaby spares Illya a glance, and gets rewarded with a look like she’s kicked his favorite wolf hound.

She rolls back her shoulders and then flicks a hand at Napoleon,

“Allright then. Both it is. On your feet. Take off your clothes. You can watch Illya undress me.”

She’s read his file and Illya’s and she knows what buttons to push.

But the first time she’ll be gentle.

Well, maybe.

The glint in Napoleon’s eye begs her not to be.

She smiles easily as Illya moves to comply and the ease with which Napoleon gets back to his feet tells her everything she needs to know.

This will be fun.

***

 


	2. Fitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to keep this a teen rated story...dammit.
> 
>  
> 
> this is all your fault can_i_poke_it_with_a_stick  
> you poked me.

With Napoleon at her beck and call and Illya looking like a lost puppy who’s been reunited with his owner, Gaby isn’t sure all of a sudden where to start.

She knows she wants someone to touch her, and after the soft and gentle teasing brushes of Illya’s fingers as he undressed her, she thinks he should be the one to get to his knees before her.

“Down.”

She presses a small hand to the crook of his neck and shoulder and he moves fluidly, as she directs.

Even on his knees while she sits on the bed, he’s still a bit taller than her.

It’s rather infuriating.

She thinks she can see Napoleon smiling out of the corner of her eye.

“Come kiss me.”

She crooks a finger at him, as she directs Illya to do the same, but instead at the cleft between her legs.

It’s lucky Napoleon’s skilled lips distract her and swallow the scream that escapes her when Illya’s mouth makes contact with her aching clit.

Overly sensitive is an understatement, but when she pushes his head closer, her hand woven through his blond hair, he gets the message.

She hums against Napoleon’s mouth and she can taste his smirk.

“You’re next. Maybe I’ll tie your hands to the bedposts so you can’t do a thing but watch while I make you come.”

Napoleon looks overly smug, and she can sense where his thoughts are mistakenly going,

“I always wondered when you’d put your smart mouth to use.”

His hands, which are completely _unrestrained_ as of then, knead her breasts and tease her nipples into points.

“Oh dear, you didn’t think I was going to be sucking that beautiful cock did you?”

Gaby bites her lip as she watches the way Napoleon’s face twists briefly into confusion, it’s a good look for him, he should do it more often, but rarely does anything faze him, then he gets the picture.

His gaze drops down to where Illya is skillfully and quickly making it harder for Gaby to think coherently and she thinks, she thinks, but she can’t be sure, that his pupils dilate.

“I don’t know if he’ll be up for that honestly.”

His voice has a tinge of desperate want.

Gaby doesn’t know what to say, so she simply gasps out Illya’s name, and nearly crushes Napoleon’s nearest hand as she comes.

Her other hand finally relaxes on Illya’s head, and she wonders if she hurt him, he said nothing, nor made any move to push her away.

When her mind returns to her, and her vision is clear, she just barely catches Illya wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and winking at Napoleon.

Just how long have they been planning this?

“If that is what you want, I will do it. It will not be a hardship to make the cowboy speechless.”

Gaby grins wickedly at Illya and then nods.

“Perfect. Shall we use your ties to bind him, or his?”

Illya cocks a brow,

“Which is more, how you say, demeaning?”

Gaby shrugs, and to her shame she realizes that doing this to Napoleon might not even be considered nearly dominant enough.

The entire area is new to her.

Illya will do anything and everything _she_ asks, because he needs a woman to obey and adore, and Napoleon should let anyone _do_ anything to him, because he needs to give up his carefully honed control.

“You don’t get to come until I say…got it?”

The idea strikes her suddenly and the way Illya’s eyes widen tell her she made the right choice.

Napoleon gives her a mocking salute, but the quirk of his lips reveals his excitement.

“Yes ma’am. What happens if I fail?”

Gaby blinks, before replying calmly,

“Then Illya will put you over his knee, and not let you up until I say.”

The men exchange glances, and Illya looks a bit more interested now.

“I’m not sure but I think the Cowboy will be losing this round.”

Gaby would never have argued that the two of them were extremely competitive, but now they were basically getting thrown into a unique battle.

Judging by Illya’s skill with her, Napoleon has a hard fight before him.

He moves up to allow Illya to tie his wrists to the bed and somehow looks entirely too at ease lounging naked before them.

Not that either Gaby or Illya have a stitch of clothing on themselves, but Napoleon just makes it seem like he’s wearing a designer suit still.

Someday she’s going to ask him where his bottomless well of confidence comes from.

“Begin.”

She’s lucky she just had the orgasm of her life, or else she wouldn’t have been able to simply sit still and watch as Illya begins to kiss and lick his way up Napoleon’s muscled thighs, continuing to stop just shy of the erection that’s nearly curving up past the american’s navel.

“You’re such a tease Peril, I never would have guessed.”

“I’m just getting started Cowboy.”

Illya smirks up at Napoleon, before nipping the sensitive skin just below his stomach and before his hip.

The American nearly bucks Illya off the bed, and his arms are straining against the ties.

“Oh I think he likes that.”

Gaby can’t resist goading, reaching out to stroke the side of Illya’s neck, and leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, whispering in his ear, so that Napoleon can’t possibly hear,

“You’re doing perfectly, _meine schöne Jungen_.”

The endearment is as close as she’s comfortable with playing the ‘mother,‘ but it does the trick. Illya groans against Napoleon’s hip, and he brings his hand up to finally touch his cock, which by now is red at the tip and weeping precum onto his stomach.

The shout that leaves Napoleon’s mouth was probably heard by half the building, and Gaby wonders if she shouldn’t have allowed him to make noise.

But there’s no point in putting further restrictions on him, all his effort is being focused on not spilling himself over Illya’s hand, and when the Russian finally leans down to take him into his mouth, Gaby feels her thighs involuntarily clench at the way Napoleon’s eyes roll back and how swiftly his lids snap closed.

It’s a real battle.

He’s holding his hips very still, probably fighting the urge to fuck Illya’s face, but Gaby thinks she can see his legs begin to shake from the effort.

Gaby strokes her hand through Illya’s hair, and leans in again to whisper,

“Suck him harder. Make him come.”

Maybe it’s cheating.

She doesn’t care.

It’s worth it.

Illya does something utterly spectacular with his tongue, and just like that, Napoleon is pulling at the ties with all his strength, popping a few stitches in the process, and his hips move against his will as he pumps his release down the Russian’s throat.

Gaby is clicking her tongue and shaking her head down at him when he comes back to complete consciousness.

“I think I saw stars.”

He says with an air of amusement, but the gleam of pure joy in his eyes tells her that he’s glad to have broken the rules.

A rebel through and through.

“Oh Napoleon, did I say you could come?”

He smiles dreamily up at her,

“No my dear, you did not. Am I in trouble?”

Gaby would smack him and break character but she simply grins, admiring his cheek.

“Yes you are. So much. Illya’s going to have to spank you now.”

“That’s right. How terrible.”

Gaby could roll her eyes at him. For all she knows he’s prepared to come again while Illya hits him.

So she does what she wants, which is to steal a kiss from him.

He gets very into it, so much so he doesn’t notice Illya untying him, until he does, and he puts his hand to Gaby’s face, stroking her skin so gently and so reverently it’s distracting.

She breaks the kiss for air, and notices his wink.

“I know what you did.”

He mouths to her, before slowly sitting up and moving to take his position on Illya’s lap, as he’s finally gotten off his knees and taken a spot on the bed.

Good thing they chose the king.

It was the only size big enough for all three of them.

Gaby watches breathlessly as Illya begins to hit him, starting off slow, and working up to loud smacks that should be painful, but only have Napoleon smiling wider and wider.

She knows she should be counting, but instead she decides to judge the number he deserves on how red his ass gets.

It’s practically glowing when his hips jerk again, and Illya fights the urge to look annoyed.

“Planning to stop anytime there Peril? Sorry about the mess.”

Gaby covers her mouth to hide her smile.

Illya has been more than patient and she knows he’ll wait forever, but she also really wants to fuck him. She’s beginning to ache again, and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Enough. Napoleon, go relax. You’ve atoned for your disobedience.”

He climbs up off of the Russian and only winces slightly as his muscles flex over the soreness.

When he takes her hand and presses a kiss to the inside of her palm, she shivers.

“Thank you madam. I’ve never been so thoroughly used.”

She doesn’t roll her eyes at that, for his words may be sarcastic, but the tone is more sincere than she’s ever heard.

It doesn’t keep her from crawling over to Illya and swiftly moving to sink down on him.

The harsh gasp that tears itself from her throat is at the feel of him.

She might have been wet and completely dying for something to fill her up, but wow.

“You allright?”

He asks her, his eyes alight with concern, and she nods.

“Yes, just, you feel incredible.”

His eyes slide shut and he hums at her words.

When she begins to move, swiveling her hips and riding him as best she can, the way his lips part and his hands tighten on her hips are little things she savors and locks away in her memory.

He’s been so good and so patient.

Watching her come and then making Napoleon get his twice.

All the while he probably wondered what she had in store for him.

She smiles slowly before a sharp thrust takes her concentration right back.

She’s not sure but there’s probably a good chance Napoleon’s already recovered and he’s touching himself as he watches them.

Before she can look to confirm her suspicions, Illya has pulled her even closer to kiss her.

The slip and slide of his lips against her own distracts her perfectly as one of his large hands moves between them to thumb at her clit, sending her flying apart in his arms as she comes.

She bites his lip and her nails scratch at his back, and she feels him jerk up into her, and there’s a rush of cold inside her.

He never can get perfectly warm.

The kiss breaks and she catches her breath, her head falling to rest on his shoulder as she feels him do the same.

“Thank you.”

He whispers into her ear, and she finds the strength to smile, before pressing a kiss to his sweaty skin.

They both did so well, she’s not sure how she ever managed without them.

***

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> the things mentioned are, Illya's Oedipus complex, and i HC Napoleon as slightly masochistic so yeah. Gaby's pretty observant and i think she'd figure it out. the whole Victoria affair was a big hint.


End file.
